


Ferret Courting Always Starts Small

by HeroMaggie



Series: Ser Chompy brings people together [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fenris Courting, Ferret!Fenris, Hawke is oblivious, Justice also makes an appearance, M/M, Romance, kick ass Anders makes an appearance, sweet and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For several weeks, Fenris has been courting Anders - leaving little trinkets and food for the mage to find. </p>
<p>But it takes a trip outside of Kirkwall to spur them both past simply tiptoeing around each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ferret Courting Always Starts Small

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one shot. Sat down after dinner and just wrote this.
> 
> I apologize for the title - titles are HARD!

It started small - which was all Fenris could manage at first. Small...shy...shiny. Something a ferret would find. It was on a bandit killed in Hightown, a little coin obviously carried for luck with a rabbit foot scratched on one side and a horseshoe on the back. It was silvery and shiny and eye-catching. Fenris pocketed it before anybody could see it.

He left it on the mage’s work table the next night - after a dinner and romping.

Next it was a new hair tie - not one of the cheap leather bits Anders used to hold back his hair. Fenris saw this one on a market table, the ends sporting small beads the color of Anders’ eyes. It spoke to Fenris - shiny and small and personal.

It was left in Anders’ coat pocket after a trip to the Wounded Coast.

Slowly, small items started appearing in the clinic. A couple of fresh eggs. A loaf of bread. Buckles to replace the ones on his coat, feathers for his shoulders…Fenris would see the items, think of the mage, and leave them.

Anders took each little gift and wondered what to do about it. Nothing seemed to have changed with Fenris. He still came over to romp and play as Ser Chompy, still ate dinner twice a week with him, still poked at him on jobs and scowled when he spoke of mages. But any time he saw the elf, he was left finding a new gift.

It was baffling.

He remembered their conversation under the stars - the realization that Fenris had assumed they were dating. That somewhere between taking care of a ferret and sitting by a campfire, Fenris had decided to court Anders. He was still unsure what that meant and where Fenris wanted to take it - so he waited, patiently, and kept each little trinket and gift and ate the food.

It all came to a head after several weeks - weeks of eying each other when they thought nobody was looking, weeks of gifts and surprises - long enough for emotions to change from friendship to the spark of something else.

Hawke had pulled Anders away from the clinic for a job - one Fenris was going on as well. Not just any job, Merrill needed a tool from the Keeper and they were going to the Dalish camp to try to get it. They would probably be out overnight since they had to trek to Sundermount- especially if they had to do a task to get the tool.

The walk to the Dalish was spent sharing little huffs of annoyance while trailing behind Hawke, Merrill, Varric, and Isabela. Merrill kept up a steady chatter with Hawke and Isabela, her voice tinkling in the air and reminding the two men that they were helping a blood mage get a tool for some sort of cursed, possessed, demon-touched mirror - a mirror that they both hated.

The first grouse, mumbled under Fenris’ breath, made Anders huff in agreement and had both men sharing a surprised, commiserating look.

“It’s not that I mind helping her. She has helped me plenty,” Anders said under his breath. “It’s just that I’m fairly certain that mirror is demon-touched.”

“You would know,” Fenris snarked, causing Anders to blink and then roll his eyes. “Though your own...ah…”

“Spirit,” Anders supplied.

“Whatever. He appears to not be as demon-y as I had expected,” Fenris kicked a rock from the path, feeling his ears heat. “Ah...he...ah…”

“He is rather fond of Ser Chompy,” Anders let a smile quirk up. “He finds you fascinating, by the way. It’s the lyrium.”

“I do not know if that makes me nervous or relieved,” Fenris admitted. “I suppose relieved. I would have hated to find out that he disapproves.”

Anders blinked in surprise, “I didn’t think you would care either way.”

“He is a part of you, yes?” Fenris glanced at the mage. “I care.”

Anders didn’t know how to respond to that and simply kept walking, eyes on the path while he thought about the words. Thought about the little gifts. It was the first time, in those several weeks, that Fenris had said anything about even the possibility of courting.

They walked the rest of the way to Sundermount in silence - eyes straying to each other, hands brushing on occasion...aware that something important shivered between them but unable to say anything.

Which was good because upon reaching the camp, they discovered that the price of for the tool was to kill some ancient elven monster. It was exactly what they both had expected, though Hawke appeared absolutely flabbergasted.

“But Merrill is a member of your clan,” He said, confusion on his face.

“Yes, but it is an ancient tool. Such is the way of the Dalish Da’len,” Keeper Marethari said patiently.

“But...Merrill…” Hawke tried again, thinking that if he spoke a little slower, the Keeper would understand that Merrill needed the tool.

“It is fine, Hawke,” Merrill piped up. “I was expecting this.”

“I think only Hawke was the one not expecting this,” Fenris whispered to Anders, who snorted into his hand.

“So, there’s a monster in the cave? A monster we need to kill? Is that it?” Hawke pointed up the mountain.

“And we are missing hunters,” Marethari added.

“Right. I mean, sure. I kill all sorts of things. What’s one monster?” Hawke beamed down at Merrill. “Anything for you, Merrill.”

The entire group groaned, turned, and started for the path.

“Watch out for the spit,” Marethari called, waving at Hawke when he blinked at her. “And I hope you know how to dodge.”

“What?” Hawke was gaping down at Merrill. “Should we have brought Aveline too?”

“It will be fine,” Merrill soothed.

“This sounds like a nightmare,” Anders whispered to Fenris.

“Promise me you will stay back,” Fenris glanced up at Anders, face serious. “Promise me, mage.”

“I promise,” Anders blinked, waiting to see if Fenris would say anything else and shrugging when the elf just kept walking. “I always do…”

***

“This monster is bigger than expected, Hawke,” Varric yelled from across the battlefield. And it was a battlefield.

The varterral was currently living up to the title of Ancient Monster quite well. It was also quite happy to show the group why Marethari said to dodge and watch for spit. Its favored attack was to spit corrosive acid at an attacker and then stomp down with its spiky, spindly legs.

The group was ranged around the cavern and trying to avoid ankle-deep puddles of spit while hoping to not get stomped on. To add that extra something to the fight, Hawke had inadvertently disturbed a large nest of mabari-sized spiders. The spiders were especially fond of the mages - which meant a lot of running in circles while trying to cast spells.

Anders had a moment to wish he could keep his promise to Fenris to stay back. Sadly, there did not appear to be a “back” in this combat. It was either spiders or varteral feet. Or the spit. None of it was good.

Fenris and Isabela were enacting an elaborate and deadly dance under the large creature, their blades slowly whittling through the carapace covering to the hopefully squishy interior. Varric was humming along to the twang of Bianca - bolts taking out everything around the dwarf. Anders was holding his own - his time as a warden having taught him how to handle melee attacks while still casting. His staff spun and sliced through the spiders while he hurled lightning and cold over and over again.

Hawke and Merrill, though, were having problems.

Both were used to have solid front-line fighters. Neither had ever delved the Deep like Anders had - the expedition notwithstanding. Neither had ever found themselves surrounded by mutant darkspawn children that would eat your kneecaps off. None had ever faced what he had faced - and it showed. They were slowly being backed into a corner by the spiders - spit eating through their boots.

Anders had a decision to make. Keep freezing the varterral’s legs or go wade into the spiders. Merrill screamed as a spider bit down on her leg, and he knew his decision had been made for him.

Anders’ staff spun in a wide arc, the blade catching the first spider and slicing it nearly in half. Moving up, he chained lightning into the group, dodging a snapping bite that would have sheared through his pants and part of his leg. Cold flared from his hands in an arc and he followed it up with a jab from his staff, smashing the final spiders into little frozen spider chunks.

Standing in front of Hawke and Merrill, he took a second to pose triumphantly - not hearing Fenris’ scream until too late.

The varterral had finally noticed that the obnoxious spell caster who kept freezing its legs was vulnerable and had bull rushed him. Anders turned in time to see a leg slam into him, knocking him prone and gouging into his side.

It was Anders that fell. It was Justice that surged up - blue flaring even as blood dripped and gushed down Anders’ side. It was Anders’ staff that was lifted, but it was magic pulled by a Fade spirit that hit the varterral and pushed it back across the cave - back and into one murderous elf who gave a scream and leapt, bringing down his greatsword with enough force to cut through one leg.

The varterral let out a piercing shriek and fell. It was just minutes to finish the beast off, Merrill calling forth vines to rip the creature apart.

Justice released Anders and the mage wobbled and fell, his hands patting frantically at pouches, feeling for a healing potion. He panted, the pain swelling, and found himself gathered up in strong arms and a potion held to his lips, Fenris rasping “drink, fool mage. Drink it.”

Gasping and shuddering as the potion settled, Anders felt the pain level off and he was able to press his hand to the wound to cast a healing spell. “Sorry,” he gasped. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

Fenris just shook his head, “I have not been leaving all of those little gifts for you to up and die on me”

“Fenris,” Anders choked on a laugh.

“How’s my favorite healer?” Hawke had jogged up, spit and blood and spider guts hanging off of him.

“Sore Hawke, sore.” Anders groaned as he sat up. “Can we go? This is a horrible place.”

“Yep! Gonna camp near the Dalish tonight. Merrill needs to be healed. Izzy too,” Hawke slapped Anders’ back. “That was amazing by the way. Amazing. That...wow. The twirling and the slicing and the wow. Amazing!” Hawke enthused.

“Thanks Hawke. Maybe don’t slap that shoulder?” Anders groused as Fenris helped him up.

“Right...right. Welp. If you can heal the ladies, we can go!” Hawke gave Anders another slap...on the same shoulder...and bustled away.

“I am going to find a frog spell,” Anders said conversationally to Fenris. “I am going to turn him into a tiny tree frog or something - let his dog chase him around a bit…”

Fenris just snorted and shook his head as the mage limped over to offer healing. He watched for a moment, thoughts swirling in his head, and then went to help Varric look for loot.

***

It was dark before Fenris could act on his thoughts. The group had been allowed to stay just on the outskirts of the Dalish camp. Baths had been taken, healing had been finished, food had been eaten, and stories had been told. There was no need for a watch due to being in the camp, and after the fight, well, nobody wanted to stay up too late.

Fenris waited for dark to fall fully, for quiet to descend, and then he changed - shrank and felt the world go fuzzy while the smells sharpened. Scooting under his tent, he snuck the few steps to Anders’ tents and slid under the wall.

Anders was sitting on his blankets, cross-legged and naked from the waist up - examining the new scar from the fight. Fenris chittered and Anders looked up, something in his face brightening at the sight of the ferret.

“Hey...didn’t know if you’d want to cuddle while here,” Anders dropped his hands, reaching for the ferret who danced away. “What?”

Fenris changed - watching the tent shrink and his vision sharpen. And even though his sense of smell dulled, the scent of Anders still lingered and made him relax.

The mage was averting his eyes, not sure what to do with a naked Fenris in his tent. A naked Fenris who took the opportunity to knock the mage onto his back and straddle his hips.

“Fenris?” Anders blinked up at the elf, a frown on his lips. “What?”

“Anders,” Fenris swallowed and tried to remember the words he had wanted to say. “I have been patient.”

“Patient?” Anders repeated, confused.

“With the courting. Leaving you gifts, making sure you eat...visiting regularly,” Fenris clarified.

“I, yes. You have been...it has been very…” Anders wasn’t sure how to respond.

“And you have left me gifts as well,” Fenris continued, ignoring Anders for the moment. “And I have felt like...perhaps...you...feel...”

“I feel?” Anders licked his lips and then blinked as understanding dawned. “I feel the same. Yes, Maker Fenris. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know…”

Fenris relaxed, a half-smile quirking up his lips. “Such a silly mage,” he whispered as he leaned down to press his lips to Anders’. A press that turned to little licks and Anders opening under the pressure to taste back. Sensitive, long fingers slid into white hair as Anders deepened the kiss - fingers sliding through hair to grip at Fenris’ back.

The broke apart, the smile blossoming a little wider on Fenris’ face. “May I?”

“May you?” Anders was flushed and grinning.

“Stay here as me and not the ferret? May I sleep next to you like this?” Fenris stroked calloused fingers over Anders’ cheek and pressed their foreheads together.

“Of course,” Anders blinked. “Of course. May I hold you while we sleep?”

“Of course,” Fenris gave a little laugh and grabbed the blanket, tugging it over them both and then nuzzling his face against Anders’ shoulder. “You are well enough for me to be here?”

“Nothing a healer can’t fix,” Anders wrapped his arms around Fenris and rolled so they were curled on their sides, facing each other.

“Will you miss Ser Chompy too much tonight?” Fenris worried, patting lightly at Anders’ chest hair.

“I have something better,” Anders whispered, “I have a Fenris.”

Fenris snorted but smiled shyly and curled up against Anders’ chest, pressed his face over the mage’s heart, and let himself relax. Felt the mage relax around him as well. Fell asleep to the soft sounds of Anders’ breathing and the steady thump of the mage’s heart.

***

“Hey Anders...we’re…” The next morning Hawke stuck his head into the tent, letting in the sun, and stopped at the sight of Fenris curled up and cradled against Anders’ chest - the two men sleeping peacefully.

Merrill poked her head in next to his, covered her mouth, and gave a little giggle. “Come on, love. Let them sleep.”

“But...what…” Hawke’s mouth was gaping open.

The sunlight hit Fenris’ face and made him blink his eyes open as the tent flap fell. He gave a little wiggle, glanced around, reached up, and plucked Anders’ hair tie from his disheveled hair - sliding it around his wrist. He gave a raspy chuckle, nuzzled back against the mage, and let himself drift back to sleep.

The hair tie was on his wrist when they broke camp later.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as Warriormaggie


End file.
